


Repeating the Charm

by micehell



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, TOKIO
Genre: A little angst, AU, Drama, Humor, M/M, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:57:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The others were used to the fact that Taichi was a hero who could sense who was evil and who was just an underpaid cog in the Starbucks empire, but it took four gingerbread lattes and two cranberry scones before Taichi would buy it.</p><p>(Extra warning: The idea of destiny that can’t be escaped is part of this story, and the sex is part of that in a tiny way, so that could be read as a not completely consenting situation, or rather one where it’s completely consensual on both sides, but they might not have complete freedom about feeling that way. If even that hint of potentially dubious consent would set you off, then please stay away.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repeating the Charm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://je-holiday.livejournal.com/profile)[**je_holiday**](http://je-holiday.livejournal.com/) fic exchange for [](http://basil-ovelby.livejournal.com/profile)[**basil_ovelby**](http://basil-ovelby.livejournal.com/). It’s a (long) urban fantasy type of story, but it’s more poking fun at fantasy tropes than actual homage, so you shouldn’t have to be a died in the wool fantasy fan to enjoy it.

Under the blanket it was too warm, the humid summer night not really meant to be spent under something even as thin and raggedy as his old, much-loved woobie. The heat from the flashlight bulb certainly wasn’t helping any. But Taichi liked the seclusion; his futon laid out in the corner of the bedroom he shared with his sisters so that he was as far from them as possible, the ‘walls’ of the blanket shutting them out even more. It was the only peace and privacy he had in the too small house and with his too pushy sisters (who tended to treat their baby brother as the best toy ever, even now that he was finally taller than they were).

The blanket had the added advantage of hiding the glow from his flashlight, so that he could stay up and read far past the time his mother had yelled at him to _go to bed already! And this time I mean it_! Because even more than the seclusion, Taichi loved the books. Or really, _the_ book.

His obsession with fantasy stories had started innocently enough, as it did with most kids his age. They started on things like Momotaro and then worked their way up through _Dragonball_ and Super Sentai and any other alternate reality they could find. Some of the kids (maybe even most of them) started to grow out of it around thirteen, becoming more interested in doing things (and by _things_ , Taichi figured it mainly came down to them _doing each other_ ) that were more… normal. But for Taichi, who had left thirteen behind a year ago… well, he still liked _The Chronicles of TOKIO_ far more than he did kissing.

In fact one of the better things about _The Chronicles of TOKIO_ (certainly better than the seriously lame title, at any rate) was that it had no romance in it at all. No mysteriously beautiful yet waif-like elves, no quirky girl-next-door types waiting at home for the hero to return, not even a wiry thief that could outfight any man around type. Just an old, cranky wizard, an elf who was both wise and foolish, an irascible dwarf, a strong, handsome guide to lead them all, and a young hero named Taichi who somehow saved the day. And, okay, it was derivative as hell, since that described a great deal of the fantasy ever written, but there was just something about it that called to Taichi (even _beyond_ the fact that the hero had his name). It was almost as if he knew the characters somehow, as if he’d met them before.

So even though he’d already read the story about fifty times, and even though the blanket was too warm and his sisters too close, and even though his mother yelled (again) when she caught him still up at three in the morning, it was all definitely worth it to read the story even just one more time.

_Ten years later_

“Look, kid, if you’re going to flash me, I think I should warn you that I have a black belt in karate.” Even saying it made Taichi want to laugh, since the closest to a black belt in karate he had was that he knew how to properly pronounce it. Still, he was already having a shit day, not the least of which being that he was stuck at a train station in the middle of nowhere well after the last train had run, and he so didn’t want to add in some pervert dressed in a _Lord of the Rings_ cosplay outfit (complete with a large pointy hat) showing him the _one penis ring to guide them all_ or whatever. In the interest of at least some level of honesty, though, Taichi added, “Okay, I am shorter than you are and all, but frankly you look like you have the muscle capacity of a green bean and I’m pretty sure I could bitch slap you into tomorrow without much effort.”

The Gandalf wannabe just rolled his eyes like _Taichi_ was the one being unreasonable here, and then reached out and smacked Taichi on the back of his head. This proved that a) that extra height (and reach) really did come in handy, and b) that apparently green beans had more muscle capacity than Taichi had ever given them credit for.

“I’m here to take you on a quest,” is what Gandalf II told him, pausing for a second before he added, “And like I would bother to flash your scrawny ass.”

About to launch into a defense of his extremely well-shaped and eminently flashable ass, Taichi was distracted when the non-insulting to his anatomy part of the whole thing finally sank in. “A quest? Really. You’re actually going to go with that?”

The kid was either crazier than he looked (which was saying something), or there was something else going on, and Taichi thought he smelled a rotten monkey. “Did Okamura put you up to this?” It would so be something his friend would do, especially since, on another shit day last week, he’d gotten drunk enough to let his childhood fascination with fantasy stories slip, and there was no way, supposed best friend or not, that the little monkey bastard would let that one go by unmocked.

But Gan-dork just flapped a hand impatiently and said, “I don’t have time to explain. You’ll just have to come with me now and I’ll fill you in on everything later.”

And, really, the guy looked harmless if more than a little fashion-challenged, but enough was enough. Taichi’s day had started off at 5am (far before anyone sane should be up) and it had consisted of a couple of fruitless job interviews and a hell of a lot more doors being closed in his face before he could even get to the interview stage, and since that was how life had pretty much been going for him for just about forever, Taichi thought he could be forgiven for not wanting to put up with anyone’s crap.

Over the years he’d learned the hard way that the stories that he’d loved as a kid were nothing but escapist trash. Real life was full of boring, mindless work that you would do until you died (saying you could get work at all) and trying to find someone to share it all with who was at least not totally objectionable and wouldn’t wind up spending and/or stealing all of the tiny amount of money you actually managed to save. And, okay, even in Taichi’s head that sounded bitter, and it was perhaps a tad bit possible that the mess his work and love life had become these last couple of years had given him issues, but even with that he was damned sure that life was more about just trying to get by than it was about noble quests and brave heroes. So with all the anger that being stranded in the middle of nowhere with a crazy kid (instead of sitting at home sipping the cheapest beer he could afford) had given him, Taichi said, “Just leave me alone. Really. Just. Leave. Me. The. Hell. Alone.”

The kid actually looked sorry when he shook his head. “I… I can’t. Much as you apparently don’t want to hear it and much as I’d like to be somewhere where there wasn’t a cold draft blowing up my cloak, you really do have to come with me. It’s not like any of us really have a choice.”

Before Taichi could either ask about the choice thing or pull his hair in frustration (or maybe the kid’s, short and spiky as it was, since, really, why should Taichi suffer any more than he already had), he found out two things. 1) The wannabe Gandalf thankfully really was wearing something under the outfit, which became apparent when he threw back his cloak, raised his hands up high and twirled around in a totally over-the-top drama queen rendition of _how a spell is cast_ , and 2) maybe those stories he’d loved as a child hadn’t _all_ been escapist trash, since with a puff of smoke (and a loud sneeze from the drama queen), the spell actually worked.

~*~

The train platform disappeared and in its place there was a Starbucks. Though Taichi guessed it was probably more likely that the train platform was still where it had always been and that it was Taichi that had moved, but either way it was a bit of a surprise to suddenly be sitting at a table at a Starbucks when he normally avoided its brainwashing-like influence (or, more honestly, its expensive menu) like the plague.

He was still in the middle of his (oddly quiet) freak out about the whole thing, and pretty much questioning his entire existence and everything he knew about the world while he was at it, when the wizard (and, oh my god, the kid was really a _wizard_!) brought him back to reality (that did real magic and everything!) by introducing him to the other three guys sitting around the table (and he was at Starbucks, and it was December, and they had Gingerbread Latte!).

Because of his whole freak out thing (and apparently the talking out loud thing, too, if the Gingerbread Latte someone went and bought him was anything to go by), he didn’t really take the introductions in at first, but after a couple of sips of his drink and multiple attempts on the wizard’s part, Taichi finally managed to at least get that the other guys were an elf, a dwarf, and a guide. Which, if Taichi didn’t already have bigger things to wonder about, would have been freaky, since all of them looked more like they type of guys you’d see hanging out in Shibuya than in a fantasy novel.

Taichi figured it was time to focus, and so in the bright light of Starbucks he finally got his first good (non-freaked out) look at the others. The wizard wasn’t really too much of a kid after all, probably only a couple of years younger than Taichi, just with a baby face. He was tall and good-looking, in a LOTR cosplay kind of way, and went by the unlikely name of Mabo. The guy next to him was probably the youngest, though it was hard to tell since he was also the tallest and kind of obnoxiously good-looking, but it was hard to hold it against him since he was also goofy and fun and went by the incredibly normal name of Nagase. Then there was the thankfully not at all tall guy (though who was still way good-looking, and he had to wonder if these guys had been chosen for the quest by a talent scout) next to Nagase, maybe a few years older than Taichi and dressed like a surfer, an image his asking to be called Gussan didn’t shake in the least. The last guy, Joshima, was definitely the oldest, and though Taichi would guess he was still in his twenties, he seemed more like someone’s dorky uncle (though oddly handsome with it). He was solicitous and sweet, though, especially with the way he kept buying Taichi drinks and snacks.

Even with his newfound focus, Taichi found a couple of things odd about them. Okay, the only fantasy book that Taichi had ever read that had a character called a guide in it had featured one that was tall, dark, and handsome, and all of the wizards he’d read about were old, but Taichi guessed he could buy how not _every_ guide would have to be smoking hot, and that even wizards would have to be newbies some time. But there was no way he was buying that the tall kid was a dwarf and that the shortest guy there was the elf. It just went against every fantasy cliché he could think of, even more so since (except for the obnoxiously good-looking thing) they were just ordinary _guys_.

But then, considering he was in a Starbucks, working his way through a really awesome cranberry scone the guide had bought him while listening to the newbie wizard tell him about how Taichi had been born to be a hero, complete with destinies and nobles quests and all that other crap, he figured a tall, pretty dwarf and a short, brawny elf might actually be the least difficult part of this to swallow.

About an hour and two more cranberry scones later, Taichi put up a hand to stop Mabo from saying anything more. He took a sip of his fourth latte to clear his thoughts, but when that didn’t work he just said, “Okay, let’s recap for the audience playing along at home. I was born to be a hero, but somehow that fact got lost in a bureaucratic paperwork fiasco, so instead of getting the training in how to use my hero Spidey senses like I was supposed to, I just got to spend a normal life, where things like heroes, elves, dwarves, wizards, and guides or whatever are all just fun things to read about in books. But now I have to go with you guys and fight off the big bad that’s going to try to destroy the world, ‘cause even though there are bunches of other groups with heroes and such, this one’s our quest ‘cause of the whole destiny shtick that none of us have any choice in. Does that sum it up?”

The other four looked kind of sheepish, but Gussan shrugged and said, “Well it sounds kind of stupid when you put it like that, but, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

Taichi rubbed his forehead, the long day and the weird story (not to mention the excessive amounts of caffeine he’d drank) making his head throb. “It’s going to take something far stronger than a latte before that’s going to seem anything but ridiculous.”

Even as he said it, though, it struck him that so much of this sounded familiar. A destiny, an evil threat coming, a quest, a hero, an elf, a dwarf, a wizard… a guide. It was the guide part that was doing it, because there was only the one book that had ever mentioned one, and he’d read it so many times. He considered the idea that maybe he was just crazy; that he’d finally snapped from the stress of months of looking for a job and not finding one, or even maybe from the loud, messy breakup a couple of weeks ago with the last in a long string of loser boyfriends. Maybe he was just nuts now and trying to live the life he’d so wanted to have at fourteen, when he’d sweated under his blanket deep into the night just to spend one more minute in a world where he wasn’t just plain old Taichi.

But even as he thought it he didn’t believe it. It was too real, the world around him. The smell of the ginger in his latte, the smell of a hard day’s job hunting on his suit, the sounds of the thinning crowd of people around them and the impatient drum of Nagase’s fingers as he waited for Taichi to say or do something. As weird as it was and as cynical as Taichi had learned to be, he still knew that all of it was real. That all that belief in magic he’d had as a child, that he’d been so sure he’d outgrown, was all true. And as weird as it was and as cynical as Taichi had learned to be, just the thought of it made him want to smile.

But it so wouldn’t be cool to do that, of course, and even less so to bounce in his seat with glee because he was a hero, damn it, so instead he just said, “You know this whole thing sounds sort of like a book I read when I was a kid called _The Chronicles of TOKIO_. I mean the whole thing, the destiny and the evil and the elves and dwarves and guides and all. Heck, even the hero was named Taichi.”

He laughed, thinking they’d join in, but there was just this strange silence. For a moment Taichi thought maybe time had stood still or something, but the register was clacking as the barista rang up a sale and he could still see the others breathing, and eventually the silence was broken by Gussan turning to Joshima and saying, “You actually _published_ one of the damn things?”

Joshima flushed, stammering out, “It wasn’t like anyone was going to believe it was real! And it was my best one, and quite good, too. My editor even told me it would have been sure to be a bestseller if I’d had enough money for their special promotion package.”

Nagase rubbed his hands over his face, shaking his head in disbelief. His voice was slightly muffled by the hands when he said, “Oh my god, you actually had it published by one of those scam self-publishing houses, too,” but he pulled the hands off to give Taichi a considering look. “Wait a second, how did he describe all of us?”

Even after all this time, Taichi could remember it distinctly. “The elf was tall and cool, the dwarf stout and cranky, the wizard old and kind of quiet, and the guide was all mysterious and handsome…” Taichi trailed off, looking at the other guys around the table, realizing that perhaps there was something a little off about the whole thing.

Mabo just rolled his eyes and smacked Joshima on the back of the head. “Geez, MarySue much?”

~*~

It might have degenerated from there, but all of a sudden Taichi felt… something. He thought at first it was the three scones and four cups of latte making a nuisance of themselves, but while he was certainly sick to his stomach, it wasn’t that kind of feeling. It was more the kind of feeling you got when you were watching a bad horror film and the people on screen were being stupid enough to go down into the dark basement while there was a killer on the loose, and you were torn between dread of what was obviously going to happen and irritation at how idiotic they were.

Weirder than that, though, was that the feeling centered on the assistant manager who’d come out of the back office to start herding the straggling customers off so they could close the store. There was nothing about him that should have made Taichi leery; short, plump, balding, innocuous. There were thousands like him all over the city, blending into obscurity in crowds made up of people just like him. But for all that, Taichi could feel, bone deep and swirling around the pit of his stomach, that this guy was _wrong_.

Mabo was the one who noticed it first, or who at least understood what was happening. He followed Taichi’s gaze, then alerted the others with a quick jerk of his chin in the assistant manager’s direction.

They all had fairly identical looks of amusement, but it was Gussan who whispered, “That guy? Really? He looks like the worst thing he’s ever done was eat paste as a kid.”

And it wasn’t like Taichi could argue with him, since he didn’t really understand what was going on, that bureaucratic paperwork fiasco that had led to his not being trained really coming into play early in the quest apparently. But the others didn’t doubt it, used to the idea that heroes could sense who was evil and who was just an underpaid cog in the Starbucks empire.

If Taichi had had time to guess what he thought would happen next, he might have thought they’d regroup outside and wait for the store to close, then corner the assistant manager in some dark alley or something. Instead what happened was Mabo stood up, cloak flying back in his typical (or at least typical of the two times Taichi had seen it) drama queen fashion, chanting out a spell that made the entire store go dark and still except for a circle of dazzling light that surrounded their table and the potentially evil Starbucks employee.

The assistant manager turned to face them, startled, but then he scowled, shouting out in a slightly squeaky voice, “Fucking heroes! I’ll send you all to hell!”

Nagase rolled his eyes at Gussan. “Why do they always say stupid things like that? I mean it’s not like we weren’t already sitting in a Starbucks, which has to be, like, at least a suburb of hell, and it’s just kind of freaking lame, too.”

Gussan just shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, we can kill him for the bad dialog instead of being part of an evil plan to destroy the world. As long as I get to kick some ass, I don’t really care.”

Taichi was still sitting, unsure what to do and still half way expecting the guys to act like they would in the books he’d spent so much time studying, but he jumped up with the rest of them when the first fireball hit.

Nagase laughed even while the table started burning, then he and Gussan took off the ear cuffs they both wore, Nagase throwing up the sword that appeared in his hand as the next fireball flew at them. The fireball bounced back off the sword, taking out the steamer behind the counter in a haze of burning metal and scalded milk.

A bow appeared in Gussan’s hand and he launched an arrow at evil manager guy, skewering him before he could let loose with another fireball. He shrank in on himself with a hiss that rivaled the steamer’s, getting smaller and smaller until there was nothing left but an empty store outfit and a name tag that read _Sato Hiro_.

The light that surrounded them disappeared and the time that had apparently stopped started up again, with customers leaving and staff apparently not even missing their now departed assistant manager. Taichi had been more expecting screams and fleeing in terror, but it was a tad bit more anti-climatic than that, with the barista behind the counter just cleaning up the burning steamer as if it were a typical nighttime task and the customers walking over the tacky tie and name tag as if they weren’t there at all.

“Um, shouldn’t everyone… well, notice that _something_ happened here? I get that you used magic to keep them from seeing the fight while it was going on, but there’s a table over here that’s a pile of ash, and the evil Jedi over there left behind his clothes when he went into the Force, and the steamer is never going to be the same again and…” he trailed off, figuring he really didn’t need them to explain.

It was magic like the fact that he’d sensed the guy was weird was magic. Like the weapons that disappeared when Nagase and Gussan put back on the ear cuffs, Nagase complaining about the fact that Gussan was greedy and that the next bad guy was all his. Magic like the way Mabo, cosplay fashion victim that he was, could make time stop and train stations disappear, and Joshima could calmly sit through the whole thing without even spilling his coffee.

And even though he’d already accepted that this was real, that he wasn’t imagining it, it was then that he realized that it wasn’t just a matter of him believing. It was that his entire life was over, or at least the life he’d hated. No more office jobs that bored the hell out of him. No more just trying to get by, each day just more of the same. It was enough to make him smile madly, not even caring that it was uncool.

Of course he could also guess that the new lifestyle wouldn’t be all fun and games. It didn’t take a genius to know that not every bad guy would be an assistant manager at Starbucks and not every fight would end so easily. And how they’d spend their days (training? temp jobs? pachinko?) was something of a mystery, since they hadn’t gotten to the new employee orientation yet. But for all of that, Taichi was looking forward to what came next in a way he hadn’t been in years.

~*~

Joshima had said they camped out a lot when they had finally given Taichi the new employee spiel, but it turned out that instead of, say, campfires and tents on a cold, barren field, their camping out was more staying in a discreet love motel and playing rock paper scissors over who got the rotating bed and who had to roll their futon out on the floor.

Taichi lost, but wasn’t too sorry, since he figured he might get a little seasick after a while anyway. He laid on his futon, drinking the beer Gussan had tossed him, and listening to the others talk about the ins and outs of their job. How things were paid for (apparently they had an allowance and an expense account, which was surprisingly mundane, though Mabo swore all the guys in accounting were witch doctors, so maybe not), how they flew under the radar like they did (SEP fields, and who would have guessed that Douglas Adams had that right all along), and how come elves and dwarves looked like normal people (because fantasy authors hadn’t ever really seen one). It was calming and Taichi was tired, and he finally dropped off to sleep listening to Nagase and Joshima giggling as they spun round in circles on the bed.

Only to wake a half hour later, all those lattes and the beer he’d had making themselves known. He passed Nagase and Joshima wrestling on the bed on his way to the bathroom, and it was only after he’d peed for what seemed like forever and had started back to his futon that he realized that it wasn’t wrestling they’d been doing.

They didn’t even pause when Taichi passed by, though Joshima did smile at him dreamily as he rode Nagase’s dick hard. Nagase was smiling, too, but it wasn’t at Taichi, a one track mind fully on track. He had his hands on Joshima’s hips, the flesh around Nagase’s fingers going white at the strength of his grip, as he pushed Joshima up further and pulled him down harder, his feet digging into the bed as he slammed his own hips up to meet Joshima as best he could.

The sight of it, the sound of flesh on flesh and Nagase’s fondly snarky, “Come on, old man, don’t tell me you’re getting tired already,” the smell of arousal that rose up like a cloud around them… it was like breathing sex, or maybe drowning in it, and Taichi was harder than he’d been for years. He wondered if the way his senses were in overdrive was part of being a hero, or if it was just that he was apparently a voyeur and had just never known. Whatever it was, every sigh they made, the way Nagase’s long neck arched back as Joshima bent over to lick it, the musky, almost chemical smell of semen as they both came, it was all sharp in Taichi’s senses, filling his eyes, his ears, his nose, his dick, and it was all he could do to not come right on top of them. He just managed to get the bathroom door shut behind him, drop his boxers and get in one perfunctory stroke on rock hard flesh before he came so hard the world whited out.

By the time he managed to clean himself up and get his embarrassment down to at least a manageable level, Nagase was already asleep, slightly snoring (dwarves were apparently prone to sinus problems), but Joshima, spooned up in front of him, was still awake. He smiled at Taichi again, though shyly this time, his eyes dropping as he asked, “Is this okay? I’m your guide, of course, but we’ve all known each other for years…” his hand fluttered in a vague gesture that could have been indicating all the others or maybe even all the years, or it could have just been post-coital fuzziness. “It’s not a problem, is it?”

Even after the pep talk Taichi had given himself in the bathroom (because it wasn’t like _he’d_ been the one to have sex in front of _them_ , so why should he be embarrassed that he’d reacted to it the way any perfectly healthy (and, okay, slightly kinky) guy would), Taichi still felt himself blush harder at that. He hadn’t expected them to have sex in front of him, of course, and it wasn’t like they’d discussed anyone’s sex life when they’d been telling him the ins and outs of things, but it wasn’t like they’d had time to address everything, either. And with the way they probably didn’t get to spend much time with anyone but each other, or even much time _apart_ from each other, he couldn’t exactly blame them for hooking up when and where they could.

“It’s fine,” was all he said, smiling awkwardly at the other man before escaping back to his futon and pretending to sleep. And if he spent hours trying to figure out exactly why it wasn’t actually fine before falling into an exhausted sleep, well, it wasn’t like it was the only thing he didn’t understand.

~*~

Using the _Chronicles of TOKIO_ as a handy reference to questing turned out to be a mistake for Taichi, regardless of the fact that the author of said story was supposed to be an expert at it. In the story there had been all kinds of foreign lands. In real life there was mostly the metropolitan Tokyo area, with the occasional side trip to such exotic locales as Fukuoka, Osaka, and Kyoto.

“We did get to go to Okinawa once when we were doing some ground work for another group,” Joshima supplied helpfully.

Nagase frowned. “Wasn’t that the time I got stung by a jellyfish? That sucked, and we only got to spend like four hours there, anyway.”

In the story there had been valiant steeds to ride on. In real life it was mostly trains, subways, buses, compact cars that Nagase and Mabo had to basically fold themselves into, and the ever popular walking to where they needed to be.

Mabo handed Taichi a metro pass and said, perfectly seriously, “Whatever you do, don’t lose this. Home Office bitches like crazy when we have to get new ones.”

In the story there had been grateful populaces. In real life most people didn’t even notice they were around. It made getting served at restaurants a little problematic, but Taichi had to admit that at times like this, it came in handy.

Nagase was running down the bread aisle, shouting at Gussan that this one was his, when he tripped over a grandmother who’d been trying to decide between wheat or whole grain. She squawked as she went down, taking Nagase with her in a tangle of bread and limbs, and Taichi had been hard pressed not to laugh.

But then one of the produce guys they’d been hunting (and who would have guessed that it would be the _produce_ department that would be the evil ones? Taichi had put his money on the meat department, but it was Gussan who’d won the pool this time) started throwing what looked like carrots, but with really sharp, serrated edges, at him, and Taichi was too busy to laugh. Nagase and Gussan had been training him on fighting, but Taichi was still a little awkward with the sword, and if Mabo hadn’t turned the carrot things into real carrots for him, he wouldn’t have needed to shave for a while.

From over in the frozen food section, Joshima shouted, “I found it!” and then all the produce guys disappeared in a puff of cabbage-scented smoke. And then they were done for the day, the shoppers around them going on like nothing had happened (though there was one confused woman in the produce department wondering why there was no one around to ask about how fresh the tomatoes were).

Later, while they were drinking at some cheap, seedy bar, Nagase said, “Guides… well, they’re the ones that see what’s coming, right? They keep track of the prophecies and they can tell if someone has destiny lines or whatever it is that destiny looks like to them. And they’re not seers, really, but they train with them when they’re young and they can do the low level stuff like a _where’s the next job_ type of thing. It’s why they’re guides, you see?”

By that point, Taichi had had three beers and two shots of bourbon, so it was unlikely that he’d really be able to see _anything_ , but he was at least drunk enough to think he did, so he nodded. “They’re in the know.”

Nagase nodded, beaming at Taichi like a proud parent who’d finally taught their kid to go potty by themselves (which Taichi thought was a stupid expression on someone who’d been nursing the same beer all night and didn’t have drunkenness as an excuse). “Right, right. They know things, or at least they’re supposed to. But Joshima, he never was very good at the foresight or keeping track of things, so he started making stories up. And sometimes there actually would be stuff in there that was the prophecy/destiny crap or whatever, but mostly it just turned into him writing stories he thought were cool. He still puts some up on fanfiction.net from time to time, until one of the council guys makes him take it down, anyway.”

A couple of seats down the bar, Joshima was leaning so heavily on Gussan he was basically sitting in his lap, running a suggestive finger up Gussan’s well-tanned, well-toned arm. It was a pretty contrast, Joshima’s pale, soft skin against all that gold tone and hard muscle, and Taichi felt himself getting a little hard. He was used to the way Joshima seemed flit between the others; fun, dirty sex with Nagase when he was in the mood, softer, sweeter touches with Gussan on the nights they had off, cuddling and comfort with Mabo when things were bad. He told himself he didn’t mind, but he also told himself he didn’t find it hot, and it wasn’t only the way he always came after watching them that said he was just lying to himself.

Nagase voice startled him, closer than he’d remembered, almost in his ear. “I thought you said you didn’t mind?”

Taichi blushed, because that meant he’d been more obvious than he’d thought he was being, and he cursed taking those last two drinks. “I don’t mind. I’m not a prude, and I get that it’s tough to find time alone living the way we do, so it’s fine.”

Apparently not believing Taichi any more than Taichi did himself, Nagase shrugged. “If it’s a problem, you can just tell him. He’s your guide, after all.”

Maybe if Taichi hadn’t been distracted by the way Joshima’s hand had disappeared under the bar, or the way Gussan shivered a little when it did, he might have wondered what Joshima’s being a guide had to do with anything. Maybe if he hadn’t ordered that next shot of bourbon, knowing what Gussan and Joshima would do when they got back to their love hotel (this one decorated in an extremely unsubtle red) that night, and trying hard not to think about it (hard just from thinking about it), he might have asked what Nagase meant. As it was, between the headache from the hangover and the way his dick chafed from jacking off in the bathroom after the others had gone to sleep, he didn’t remember what Nagase had said at all.

~*~

“What do you think, sushi?” Gussan was looking out the window of a little seafood restaurant near the beach at Chiba. It usually had a great view of the ocean.

Nagase pressed his face up against the glass, looking up and then up some more, apparently unconcerned that most of the view of the ocean was blotted out by coiling masses of giant tentacles. “Maybe they’re just trying to be all friendly like.”

Mabo rolled his eyes, Gussan ignored him, and Joshima laughed, but Taichi couldn’t help but ask, even knowing he probably wouldn’t like the answer. “Friendly like?”

“I read some tentacle porn one time that was really awe-“

Mabo smacked him upside the head before he could finish, but Nagase just stuck out his tongue at him, laughing when Joshima said, “Hey, I read that one, too.”

Gussan ignored them all, apparently calculating how many sushi rolls the sea monster would make. He nudged Taichi in the ribs and said, “If we get this one finished quick, I’ll teach you to surf before we have to head back.”

Taichi wasn’t as good in the water as Gussan, Nagase, or Mabo, all of them sleek and glistening in the waves, as easy in the water as if they been born there, but Taichi at least was far more graceful than Joshima, who dog paddled and nearly drowned until Taichi fished him out.

And if Taichi went to bed cranky that night, trying to block out the sound of Nagase and Joshima acting out the tentacle porn they’d read, he blamed it on the sunburn he got. If he dreamed about pulling Joshima from the waves, wet and real against his naked skin, he didn’t blame that on anything at all.

~*~

They weren’t allowed to take the express trains as a usual rule, their expense account not generous enough for that (apparently even councils full of wizards and other magical beings were feeling the crunch of the recession), but when Joshima found a job for them in Osaka, they got to take the bullet train across. It was just as well, since Taichi was peeling and itchy and in no mood to be stuck up close with the others for hours. His mood was bad enough that he almost missed his old life (the one where he’d dated loser guys, but at least had been getting some instead of pining like a 13-year-old wannabe princess who read too much _Margaret_ ), and it made him snarkier than he usually was, until even Taichi was sick of his own sharp tongue.

He was certainly in no mood to find out that their job was a bust, already handled by some local kids (and they really were kids, some of them barely teens yet, which somehow just made it worse).

The oldest one, a bleached blond a couple of years younger than Nagase and with a strong Osakan accent, said (in what sounded like an oft repeated spiel), “We’re Eito, Osaka’s Seven Dwarves, the first line of defense for our fair city. Our greetings to the Council.”

Far more naturally (though in just as strong an accent), one of the other kids (wearing n outfit that made Mabo’s wizard cosplay look like a wise fashion choice) said, “Sorry you guys came all this way for nothing, but my mother’s youngest cousin’s husband was a seer, and sometimes I pick stuff up, too. And it was just some brownies who were more cleaning _out_ houses than cleaning them _up_ , so no big deal.”

Mabo, always polite even as weird as he was, just waved it off, willing to just talk some shop and then head back, but Taichi was feeling too bitchy to let it go. “If you’re Eito, why are there only seven of you?”

Another one of the older kids (who could apparently snark just as well as Taichi), answered, “There used to be eight of us,” the _no duh_ he didn’t tack on still perfectly obvious in his tone.

“What happened to the other guy?” Taichi asked before he could think better of it, leaving himself wide open to…

“He got ate.”

… the worst pun in history, but the sheer ridiculousness of it (and of his own behavior) made Taichi laugh, the dark cloud that had been hanging over his head finally breaking up.

The others must have felt it, too, since everyone’s mood got brighter after that. They took the kids to lunch at what was apparently ‘the best okonomiyaki place in the world’, at least according to how much the youngest ate (which was almost as much as either Nagase and Gussan, and Taichi hadn’t thought that was possible, especially in someone so small).

They were only having soda and tea since none of the kids were old enough to drink (and since Taichi’s last hangover was still recent enough to make him swear off), so Taichi couldn’t blame it on the alcohol that it took him so long to notice, but it was in the middle of their fourth serving that it finally occurred to Taichi that the kids had called themselves the seven _dwarves_.

He looked at all of them and then looked at Nagase. Looked at them again and then back at Nagase. But, no, not even a third look made even one of them seem all that tall nor all that likely to ever be more than average height at best. He was just drawing breath to ask what was going on when Mabo stepped on his foot and shook his head, leaning over to whisper, “I’ll tell you later.”

On the train back that afternoon, Nagase said, in the same tone of voice you’d expect from someone mentioning a dark family secret, “It’s what happens when dwarves… come from Osaka.”

Taichi waited a second, then several more. He took a drink of the bottled water Mabo had bought him to make up for bruising his foot when he’d stepped on it, but not even that made it make any more sense than it had when Nagase had said it. Fortunately Taichi was kind of used to that by now, so he just went back to reading the soccer playsheet someone had left behind. 

~*~

On Tuesday they had no jobs at all. Taichi figured they’d split up, wanting a break from each other, and they did in the morning, but by ten Nagase had called him to come play futsal for a couple of hours, and then when lunch rolled around, Gussan called inviting him out for omurice at Edoya’s. The restaurant used demiglace instead of catsup, and it made Taichi nostalgic, remembering the better times when he was young and they’d still had enough money to eat out every Sunday dinner; his parents smiling and laughing (not yet bitter over their business going bankrupt) and Taichi’s sisters on their best behavior (instead of trying to dress Taichi like a doll, like they did most Sunday mornings), and Taichi full of eggs, chicken and rice drenched in spicy-sweet demiglace. 

He didn’t remember saying any of that out loud, but he must have, because Gussan started talking about his own childhood; brothers instead of sisters, oldest instead of youngest, but parents just as bitter at how life had turned out.

It made Taichi wonder, though. “If you’re all elves, shouldn’t they have been on quests and stuff, too?”

Gussan just laughed. “Did you think that every elf or dwarf or whatever had a destiny? There’d be way too many people questing versus how many reasons there were to quest if that were true, let alone when you add in the humans like you who have destinies, too. No, my family was pretty much just like yours, with normal everyday problems. There was just the added element of being elves and knowing about magic and the like. I even went to school just like you did. At least until fifth grade when I got tested and got sent to a special school instead. It was just like a normal one, though, just with extra classes… kind of like a magic cram school.” He grinned at the look Taichi shot him over that.

“So you didn’t always know you were going to have a destiny?”

The grin dropped off Gussan’s face, a less happy memory passing like a shadow across it. “No, that came later. I’d wanted to be in a band, actually, even years after I knew better. It wasn’t too bad, though, ‘cause at least I learned about it when I was still young enough to adapt. There’ve been those who couldn’t and it’s usually… _messy_ when that happens.” 

Taichi could imagine, especially if it was someone who could use magic. He wondered exactly _how_ destiny took hold of those people who tried to fight it, figuring it wouldn’t be pleasant for anyone.

Gussan was still talking, though, shaking Taichi from the thought. “Nagase, now, he wanted to be a pro skateboarder, and it took us years to get him to stop thinking about it. On bad days he sometimes wants it even now.”

Just from the hint of longing in Gussan’s voice, Taichi knew Nagase wasn’t the only one who still dreamed of other things. “You really don’t like what we do? You seem to really enjoy the job, and, heck, Nagase seems to thrive on it.” 

He shrugged, smiling again. “We do like it. It’s just hard to swallow the lack of choice sometimes.”

And Taichi had to admit if he’d come into things the way they had, without having had a childhood full of at least some choices (even if a lot of them had been bad), he might have been more than a bit bitter. It was odd to think that he was lucky his old life had been so grindingly boring that he didn’t mind leaving it behind.

After they ate they walked along the cobbled streets of Azabu-juban as the lunch time crowd thinned out, Gussan filling Taichi in on the history he’d missed sharing with them due to someone else’s mistake.

“Even though I’d tested into the school with the others, it still took a couple of years before Joshima and I met and he figured out that I would be part of his group. I’d begun thinking it was never going to happen at all. Then a couple of years after that I met Mabo, and I didn’t even need a guide to tell me we’d be connected, and then it all started coming faster after that. It was Nagase who Joshima hadn’t been able to say for sure about, and then it took years before it became obvious that it was this other guy that had been with us that was the problem, not Nagase. Which was kind of hard on the kid, but he’s tougher than the dorky exterior would lead you to think, so it worked out okay.”

It was at another Starbucks, with another Gingerbread latte in hand, that Gussan told him about the hole that Taichi had been supposed to fill. 

“We kept getting held back because we didn’t have a hero, and without a hero… well, you can fight, sure, but you can’t always tell who the real bad guys are or if you got them all. That’s why every group has a guide and a hero: the one to show them where to be and the other to sense what needs to be done. The rest of us are just there to do the dirty work.” 

Taichi was pretty sure that a good deal of the time it was either Mabo or Gussan who figured out where they needed to go, and Nagase had an almost sixth sense about people (which was helpful, since his other five senses sometimes needed work). Joshima could fight when he needed to, and Taichi, well, he was getting better all the time, at least, so what they each brought to the group wasn’t as clearly defined as Gussan made it out to be. Or maybe it was just that their group didn’t fit into the patterns that most groups did, confused and muddled by everything that had gone wrong before it ever even fully formed, but working well enough for them all the same.

“Joshima had actually described you to the Council, and, really, I know he’s not always the best, but he actually got it pretty damn close, down to knowing you were named Taichi and everything. Only problem was he described you as you look now, and we were looking for you over ten years ago, and I’m guessing you didn’t look the same at thirteen as you do now.”

At thirteen, Taichi had looked like a stick with large ears and big teeth and it was only the fact that he’d always been cute that saved him from being mercilessly teased about the ears. Thankfully he’d grown into both ears and teeth while still keeping the cuteness (even if he did say so himself), but Taichi could certainly see how someone might have missed him then if looking for the Taichi of now.

“So we wound up doing the grunt work for other groups for years while the Council hemmed and hawed about what to do with us. For a while there it looked like we’d just go on like that forever, but then, completely by coincidence… or really not, because none of us really believe in coincidence.” Gussan waved a hand, like he was sweeping the whole coincidence part of it out of the way. “But however it was, one of the scouts the Council sends out to look for things that might be slipping between the cracks saw you and actually remembered you from the sketch Joshima had done. And boy did that cause a stir, because by then you were supposedly too old to train, but since you had a destiny, they couldn’t just let it go, either. Like I’d said, those who can’t adapt usually cause a mess, even if they don’t know anything about it. It was a close call for all of us, because they were really thinking about assigning Mabo, Nagase, and me to the administrative branch to basically push paper, and they certainly weren’t going to tell us about what would happen to you and your guide. Luckily for everyone a bunch of portents started showing up, and then the seers were all sure it was us who were on call, so the Council had no choice but to suck it up and hope for the best.”

It left Taichi cold, wondering what might have happened to him if things had gone another way. 

That night, when Mabo and Joshima were splashing in the enormous heart-shaped hot tub at their latest love hotel, and Gussan was holding open his futon cover, tacitly offering the space to Taichi as he had any number of times before, Taichi took the invitation for the first time. He needed the warmth almost as much as he needed to be where he’d always been meant to. 

~*~

On Wednesday they wound up at another job that had already been done by another group. The others looked at Joshima, but he just shrugged and went back to talking to the group’s guide, who’d been in the same class with him at Magic High (as Mabo insisted on calling it). 

The other group’s hero, Go, was really short (making Taichi feel less like the midget Nagase always called him) as was Ken (who was obviously his partner in crime if the matching wicked smiles were anything to go by), and Nagase looked like he’d be taller than both of them even if one of them stood on the other’s shoulders, but they had apparently been friends in school, too, as had Mabo and Inocchi, so it was like a mini-reunion, with all of them mingling and kind of ignoring Taichi. 

Before he had a chance to feel self-conscious about it, though, Sakamoto invited them to dinner at their place. Their place turned out to be an abandoned hospital oddly enough, which Nagase said was creepy, but turned out to be pretty nice. The rooms they used were clean and homey, with no ghostly apparitions or bloody walls anywhere to be seen (and if Nagase and Gussan had screwed up Taichi’s expectations of the fantasy genre, he had to say that a homey, non-haunted hospital _totally_ destroyed his horror ones).

At dinner, Taichi found out the others were pookas, prone to turning into rabbits at odd moments, or rather something that looked like it might be a were-rabbit if were-rabbits were still largely human looking and yet disturbingly cute at the same time. 

As they ate, Ken, with his nose twitching in a way that made Taichi want to pinch him he was so cute, told him that the name of their group was Sexy Honey Bunnies (which Nagano warned him not to ask about, because then Ken would actually explain it), and Okada kept scratching his long ,soft furry ears in a way that pretty much reduced everyone into doing whatever he wanted, which was all adorable if a little odd. 

But the most disturbing thing Taichi saw was the way Sakamoto and Go sat so close, Sakamoto being annoyingly solicitous of his hero and Go fondly irritated at his antics. The others were obviously used to the way they carried on, blithely ignoring them, but the intimacy between the two was obvious even to an outsider. Taichi tried to believe that it was the difference in their age that bothered him, Sakamoto having the same old man air that Joshima did, while Go was barely old enough to drink, but as he watched the two of them, relaxed and easy in each other’s company, he knew he was lying to himself. 

And when Sakamoto offered them each their own room so that they didn’t have to share for once, Taichi lied to himself that Joshima actually took it. 

~*~

They wound up almost getting their asses kicked by what looked like an overgrown kappa (or perhaps a slightly scaled down version of Gojira, one of those two things) that had been living in one of the fountains at Shibuya 109. It had knocked Mabo smack into a wall before he could even start to cast a spell (which was maybe a hint that Mabo should stop with the time-consuming if highly dramatic looking cloak flourishes and hand gestures), and Joshima had still been trying to get him to identify how many fingers he was holding up as the others took up the fight.

Without Mabo to use one of his handy time stopping spells, the SEP field was having a hard time holding up, especially with the way the kappa kept roaring and trying to kill all of them. Having to avoid the screaming and flailing mob of hipster queens and fashion divas was making it especially hard for any of them to fight, and Taichi just barely avoided the kappa’s Gojira-like tail as it tried to slap him all the way up to the top of the tower.

It was while Gussan was being held under the water of the fountain by one giant clawed hand, doing a good imitation of an elf about to drown, that Nagase had come skating down the escalator railing. Or _skateboarding_ down it, really, his sword swinging as the skateboard launched into the air off the curve of the railing, the board only falling away from Nagase when his sword got caught in the kappa’s tough hide so that Nagase wound up hanging from it about ten feet off the ground.

Luckily the sword had already passed through the surprisingly soft skull, so Nagase didn’t have to hang there for long. Unluckily the kappa shrunk in on himself really fast, disappearing with a loud pop and dropping Nagase those ten feet down, right on top of Gussan as it turned out. It was only the water that kept them both from having more than cuts and bruises and dented pride when it was over.

After they’d finally escaped back to the hotel (this one done in silver with pink neon lights that made all of them look like they were embarrassed), Nagase kept talking about how amazing the skateboard thing had been until Gussan said he thought it had been just like that scene from the _The Two Towers_ with Legolas and the shield, and that it was sad that a dwarf had to imitate an elf, and a fake one at that. Nagase shut up after that, not remembering that Gussan had been half-drowned at the time and wouldn’t have seen what Nagase had done enough to compare it to anything. The others, nursing their own aches and pains, were just too happy with the quiet to point it out.

~*~

A week later they had yet another job that had been handled by another group by the time they got there. This time instead of looking at Joshima, everyone looked away from him, apparently wanting to give him some time alone with all the mistakes he was making.

The group of shinigami were young, but they’d handled the job really well, the nest of jinn they’d fought a hard enemy to face, but they’d come out of it without a scratch. Mabo had been the TA in some of their classes back at school, and they’d all wound talking shop for a while. The hero of the group was as big an airhead as Nagase, totally missing the way the others giggled every time he talked about how he’d _thrust in with his really big sword_ , but even though Taichi laughed with everyone else, he couldn’t shake the _something wrong_ feeling that was tugging at all his senses, the hero related ones as well.

~*~

Unable to sleep, Taichi stared at Joshima until the other man woke up. He didn’t know how he’d known that would work, but he was learning not to question the instincts that he’d always thought of as odd before. 

He didn’t know how he’d figured out that Joshima was deliberately trying to sabotage the quest when none of the others had seen it, either, but Joshima didn’t even ask him why when Taichi told him to get dressed and come with him. 

Gussan woke up when they were getting ready, but Joshima told him they were just going out for coffee and to go back to sleep. They wound up at the ever-present Starbucks right down the street, which was open even at this disgusting time of day. Taichi let Joshima take a sip of his heavily doctored espresso before he finally asked, “Why?”

Joshima didn’t answer right away, but he didn’t try to pretend he didn’t know what Taichi was asking, either. Finally he sighed, shaking his head. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually. There was no way you wouldn’t, since I’m your guide, after all.”

The others were always saying that, too, that Joshima was _his_ guide, not _theirs_. Joshima was his, Sakamoto was Go’s, even the airhead hero from yesterday had called Sho _his_ , and Taichi didn’t get it. Didn’t get why if Joshima thought Taichi would have some extra edge in figuring him out, why he’d tried to screw up the quest in the first place.

As if he’d heard him (and maybe since he was apparently _his_ guide, Joshima had heard him in some way), Joshima looked at Taichi, cocking his head in confusion. “You do understand what it means that I’m your guide, right? That story I wrote, it would have made it all clear.”

Taichi thought back to the story, trying to think if he’d missed something, but he’d read the thing so many times and he could probably still quote whole passages from it even after all this time, and it had never once talked about there being any significance to being someone’s guide. “The guide was the leader that took them through the quest. I mean, yeah, he was all mysterious and stuff, but it wasn’t anything big, and he never once tried to stop the quest, so, no, I don’t see how it makes all of this clear.”

“Shit, that must have been one of the stories I just winged it on.” At Taichi’s sour look, Joshima said, “What? It’s been over ten years since I wrote it, and I’ve written tons of them altogether, so it’s not like I can remember the exact details of all of them.”

Taichi sighed, wondering if having a destiny made most people this confused, or if it was just something about the people in their group. “Don’t wing it this time, then, and make it all clear.”

It took over an hour for Joshima to finish, getting sidetracked along the way, but it was clear by the time it was over. Just nothing Taichi had expected. “So you weren’t born, not like the rest of us, you were created?” 

Taichi was still vaguely horrified at the thought, but Joshima just smiled and nodded, glad that Taichi was on board now. But Taichi wasn’t sure he could be. The idea that guides were (that _Joshima_ had been) created simply to help out a hero was kind of appalling. That their lives were devoted to helping the hero’s quests and to protecting them. That they’d die for their hero, or they’d die with him. Just the thought that someone else’s life was literally dependent on his made Taichi a little sick.

“And even though you’re not usually very good at foresight, not even as much as some of the other guides, you’re still sure the vision or whatever you want to call it that you had was right? That I’ll die at the end of my first quest no matter what you do to stop it?”

Joshima wasn’t smiling now, but he nodded again. “I only told the council, never any of the others, but I’ve known it since I first saw you in the one and only completely guided dream I ever had. We go to fight the final battle of the quest, but no matter how hard all of us fight, it gets out of hand. You wind up dying right before the others manage to kill the mastermind behind the whole thing, and then everything goes dark in the dream as I die right behind you.”

“That’s why you were trying to sabotage the quest. But you know that we have to finish it, no matter what, or, you now, world destroyed and all that.” Though Taichi could see how it was easy to say that duty came first and a lot harder to really think about, because even here in the completely innocuous world of overpriced coffee and delicious cranberry scones, it was making Taichi (oddly quietly) freak out every time he did think of it.

Joshima nodded a third time at that, looking more wistful than freaked out himself. “I wasn’t trying to stop the quest so much as delay it. It’s not just that I don’t want to die, though I have to say that sucks, it’s more that… you don’t know how long I waited for you.” 

Just the wistful tone in his voice told Taichi that it hadn’t been an easy wait, so he was the one to nod this time, letting Joshima explain. 

“I was told I was a guide from the beginning, of course, since we’re created at the age of ten and it would be hard for the council to explain to all of us why we had the knowledge of a ten-year-old but none of the memories of one without telling us that. But most guides find their heroes fairly early, so they’re usually not that far apart in that seeming age, just a little younger or a little older. Guides like Sakamoto are rare enough, where their heroes are so much younger, but guides like me, where there’s only a handful of years difference in their ages, but almost twenty years passing by until the time that they actually meet… well, I’m the only one. And it really was hard, like missing a limb all these years. And then when I finally did meet you, you were as familiar to me as my own hand, but to you…” 

Joshima trailed off, just looking miserably at Taichi, as if Taichi would understand just from that. And, really, Taichi did. He’d felt it from the other side, the familiarity the others had felt for him that he couldn’t quite match, a stranger on a strange shore, but one he’d desperately wanted to just _know_ already. To be a part of it like he was always supposed to be. Maybe that was another reason why the whole destiny thing wasn’t as hard for him to take as it had been for the others, in that Taichi so very much wanted to be where he was destined to.

Seeing that Taichi got it, Joshima brightened up a little, but he was still looking pretty glum as he went on. “And in a way I was glad about the wait, at least after I knew what was supposed to happen, but I have to say that doing without the sex wasn’t fun. I don’t know how Higashi quested all those years before he retired without sleeping with his hero once. Of course my hero is a lot better looking than his was, but still.” 

Joshima shuddered at the thought of it while Taichi just stared, positive that one of the two of them was missing something. But Joshima’s guide-fu apparently didn’t work at the moment since he blithely continued with, “I know that most of the other guides don’t tend to have sex with the rest of their group as much as I do, but it really was kind of a hard wait, no pun intended, and, really, you’ve seen them, so you know it wasn’t exactly a hardship to be with them over the years. Well, over the years we’ve all been old enough, anyway, because kids really aren’t my thing, but you know what I mean.”

And, no, Taichi was really sure that this time he didn’t know what Joshima meant, except, okay, that was kind of a lie, because Taichi had known that he was attracted to the other man, even though he was kind of funny and fail-ish (though apparently some of that was intentional) and even though Taichi _had_ seen the others, and totally got the whole it not being a hardship to have sex with them thing. No, if he were honest with himself, the only thing Taichi was lost on was if sex with _his_ guide was apparently part of the package as long as they both wanted it, and that apparently they both totally did, why had Taichi spent so much time masturbating for all these months.

Happily Joshima’s guide-fu was apparently working now, because his eyes went wide, then hooded, and neither one of them lost any time in heading back to the hotel. They kicked Mabo out of the bed he’d won the use of the night before, Taichi shutting him up with his half-empty and already cold cup of chocolate mint latte (Mabo was never picky about where his caffeine came from), and then they stripped at what were barely subsonic speeds. 

Taichi was slightly self-conscious about having sex in a room where other people were (theoretically) sleeping, but he was also dying from months of what had turned out to be stupid denial. So he ignored Mabo when he put a pillow over his head with a muffled complaint about it being too early and instead focused on Joshima as he opened him up with impatient fingers. He felt eyes on him as he pulled Joshima’s legs over his shoulder, as he pushed in deep, but Gussan watching them (Gussan hard from watching them) was just an extra thrill on top of the hard body under him and the soft moans Joshima was making as Taichi drove in again and again. 

It didn’t last long, Taichi unable to resist the feel of Joshima so tight around him, trying to take Taichi in deep and then deeper still, and Joshima was lost at the feel of Taichi’s large hand wrapped around him, jacking him off to the beat of his thrusts, both of them shuddering and shivering as they fell apart together.

Taichi was still (oddly quietly) freaking out about the prophesied death and all, but he had to admit the sex pretty much trumped that at that moment. And while he’d probably never be completely at ease with how little choice they all had in their lives, _his_ guide even less so than the others, there hadn’t been any hesitation in the way Joshima had kissed him, no _lie back and think of England_ in the way he’d wrapped his legs around Taichi’s waist and pushed back hard into his thrusts, and there was certainly was nothing about resignation to his fate in the way Joshima draped himself over Taichi, sticking to him like a second skin as they both laughed when Nagase started to snore, completely oblivious to everything that had happened.

By the time they’d woke up and fucked again for the third time, loud enough that even Nagase complained about the noise, Taichi wasn’t freaking out at all.

~*~

The final battle of the quest took place, oddly enough, in a hospital. Unlike the other group’s (there was no way Taichi was calling them Sexy Honey Bunnies, no matter how much Ken twitched his nose) hospital, this one wasn’t abandoned, full of staff and patients and something more evil than Taichi had ever seen.

The others knew it though. They even called it by name, their faces horrified at what had become of someone they’d once called friend. But Gussan had told Taichi that it was messy when someone fought their destiny, and apparently the boy who’d once been going to quest with them had fought his with everything he had. 

He still looked human, this man who was only a little older than Mabo and who’d once just wanted to have a normal life. But what was left wasn’t human at all; dark and twisted by a magic that had blackened into something that overwhelmed Mabo’s, by a strength that left Nagase and Gussan bleeding, and by a destiny that would only finally end when he killed Taichi.

Taichi barely had time to regret all the time he’d wasted before the spell hit him, pain like ice and fire filling him as Joshima soundlessly screamed his name (or perhaps it was just Taichi that was soundless, dying stealing even that from him). With fading eyes he saw Mabo start chanting a spell with no fanfare at all, the magic burning out of him in a rush of light that sparkled off Nagase’s sword and Gussan’s arrows, all of it spiraling in to fill the void that their former friend had become, washing away the darkness until there was nothing left…

Except for the darkness filling Taichi’s eyes, the last bit of light showing him Joshima falling beside, dying beside him, fading away beside him as the world went away.

~*~

It turned out that a massive final battle, complete with spells exploding, swords flashing, arrows flying, and people dying, was enough to totally destroy the SEP field that usually surrounded them, and Taichi had only been dead for about a second when a doctor noticed and kind of did something about it, even while there was chaos going on all around him (apparently mayhem on a large scale was nothing to an experienced ER doctor).

By the time Taichi managed to check himself out AMA (death by magic spell looking a lot like a heart attack even to said experienced ER doctor), the others were waiting for him, faces grimly set as they waited for their hero to lead the way. It wasn’t Taichi’s job, had never been meant to be Taichi’s job, but he could tell from one look at his face that Mabo’s magic wouldn’t make it stop being Taichi’s job. He also knew, in a way that was totally a hero’s job, that there was someone’s magic who would, so he just said, “Take me to the Council.”

Johnny-san had been head of the Council since long before any of them had ever been born (long before any of their _grandparents_ had been, either), a vampire who’d been undead so long that he’d sort of shrunk in on himself over the years, looking more like a mummy than Count Dracula. But he was still a force to be reckoned with, and they’d all been set to beg and plead (though Nagase had been working on a contingent plan involving things like taking the whole Council hostage or perhaps a journey to the west (like Taichi, Nagase had wasted a good deal of his education studying manga instead of doing schoolwork)), but Johnny-san just rolled his eyes and said, “I don’t know why you want him back, but Higashi swore you would, so he’s waiting in the other room. Don’t let the magic door hit you in the ass on your way back to Tokyo. And stop using your expense account to watch PPV porn or else I’m taking it out of your retirement package.”

It was a little anti-climatic after that. Nagase was disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to use the contingent plan, but Gussan took them all out for yakiniku (since they deserved _something_ for saving the world, and apparently PPV porn was off the list), and that seemed to make it better. Mabo drank them all under the table, and Taichi didn’t drink at all, but he still felt like he had, drunk off the feel of Joshima sleeping with his head on Taichi’s chest, listening to his heart beat all night long.

~*~

The next day they got a package from the Council, their new quest spelled out for them in way too much detail and wasted paper (a time-honored tradition in bureaucracies everywhere). By lunchtime they were covered in muck and smelling like a sewer, the smell so strong that even people who didn’t usually notice them backed away, giving them loads of space on the crowded subway.

Taichi smelled so bad he wanted to cut his own nose off, and he was squishing in places he was both uncomfortable with and yet oddly liked all the same. Nagase’s knobby knees kept bumping up against him as Nagase tried to find a way to sit that didn’t hurt the giant bruise he’d got on his ass from slipping in the mud. Mabo’s hat kept poking him in the head as Mabo nodded off, though he was awake enough to swat Taichi any time Taichi tried to shift the hat away. Gussan and Joshima were in the seat across from them, and even though they looked bonelessly intimate laying against each other, Taichi only felt a tiny bit jealous of all the history they had together, figuring that they’d all have years and years more.

It was just another typical day at the office and Taichi really loved his job.

/story


End file.
